


Lonely

by terryreviews



Category: Dark Shadows (1966)
Genre: First Kiss, Gen, Loneliness, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:09:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28912107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terryreviews/pseuds/terryreviews
Summary: Barnabas asks Willie one day how he is doing. Willie can't possibly answer that honestly but it does get him remembering. Thinking about his friend Jason.
Relationships: Willie Loomis/Jason McGuire
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	Lonely

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't sure I was going to post this. This was intended to be the first chapter of a longer series dealing with Willie and Barnabas developing a relationship but I didn't think I would get around to writing more so...this piece becomes a stand-alone piece about Willie's loneliness and his unrequited love for Jason.
> 
> I admit that I am only in the 430s range of episodes, I have not seen the entire show yet and I didn't start from The Beginning, I started from when Barnabas comes in because on my streaming service they have the show divided into two hundred or so episodes before Barnabas called The Beginning and then Dark Shadows after his arrival.

"How are you this evening, Willie? I trust you are well?"

Willie stopped, feather duster poised mid-stroke against the books. He was sure Barnabas could hear his heart. Still, he tried to smile.

"Oh...uh...I'm fine. I wasn't complain' or anythin'. To anybody."

"I know you weren't," Barnabas said placatingly, but all Willie heard was the  _ or else _ beneath the words. They lapsed into a tight silence before Willie, tentatively, resumed his dusting. Mind going a million miles a minute.

Barnabas was an aristocrat. A wealthy, proud, noble with a long lineage. Respectable and cultured. In other words, a snob. An abusive snob. In the vampire's time, and here in modern-day, servants were only good for the labor they did that the wealthy were too weak and lazy to do for themselves. Not once, in all the time Willie knew Barnabas, been at the end of his cane, did the vampire care about him.

So, having Barnabas ask after him terrified him. What did it mean?

"It has been brought to my attention that you may be," Barnabas searched for a word, "lonely," he settled.

Willie laughed, shocked and shrill, before hastily composing himself. What could he say? If he told the truth, it could be a trick, a way to kick him further down than he already was. If he lied, Barnabas would probably see through it and he'd get punished. Barnabas hated when he lied.

He considered his answer, keeping his back to Barnabas.

"Well...I'm," he cleared his throat, "fine. Nothing to be worried about." A simple and true answer. True to a point at least. He was fed, he slept well enough, had a comfortable bed. He was forced to quit drinking. While that gave him the shakes, originally, now he was better off. No hangovers or drunken brawls in any case. So, yes, he was fine, to a point.

He was always so scared. Scared to the point that the strain could stop his heart. Then the guilt. Jason, Maggie, all the girls that were attacked.

When he ran with Jason, it had been drunken fights, blackmail, midnight thefts. Where had been his guilt or fear then? All it would have taken was antagonizing the wrong person and that would have been it. He never thought about it. He was young and tough, Jason was the brains. Between the two of them, nothing could go wrong.

Now, Willie kept his head down, spent his time doing errands. He polished wood, dusted portraits, replaced candles. At any moment, his usefulness could come to an end.

With all that was left of his heart, he wanted his freedom and loathed that he was too cowardly to try for it. Barnabas made sure of that. At least with Jason, they were friends. Even at his worst, Jason was nothing compared to Barnabas and Jason was only a man.

Barnabas was something supernatural and terrifying, holding Willie in his thrall. So much so that, when he had the chance, he just could kill the vampire. Even when Maggie begged, he couldn't. Something in him stopped him. Made him fear the consequences if he failed.

After his answer, Barnabas stayed silent.

Willie moved the duster faster and pretended he couldn't feel Barnabas's eyes watching him.

"Willie."

At hearing his name, ice trickled down his spine as his body seized up and he held his breath.

"You have done well today," there was a pause, "you have my permission to stop and do what you please for the remainder of the night."

Willie's breath left him in a rush of relief, voice trembling, "oh...thank you, Barnabas." He scurried out of the room. As he went up the stairs, from the corner of his eye, he could see Barnabas in his chair. Watching.

He all but ran the rest of the way.

Once in his room, he shut the door harder than intended and lingered by it, wincing, waiting to see if Barnabas heard it and would call him back down to scold him.

After several worrisome seconds, he relaxed. If Barnabas did hear, he didn't care enough to say anything. Thank god.

Willie rubbed the back of his neck and headed over to the bed.

_ Why was Barnabas being kind of nice? _

Shoes and all, he flopped into bed and adjusted so that he was on his back, staring at the ceiling. Thinking. Was Barnabas plotting something? Some kind of trick that would come to bite Willie? Be nice and lull him into a false sense of security and catch him slipping up. What else could it be? Barnabas couldn't actually want to be nice to him for the sake of it.

It was times like this he wished he was allowed to drink.

He laid there, trying to get comfortable, trying to breathe. In and out like Julia had shown him one day to calm his nerves and his nerves needed calming right now. In and out. He lifted his hands to his chest.

"Ah!" He jumped when something tickled under his chin. It took a moment of frantic looking to realize he'd taken the feather duster with him when he left Barnabas. He let out a shaky laugh and dropped it off the side of the bed. He'd bring it down later.

Giving up on sleep, he wasn't tired anyway, he sat up. The room was dim. Subdued, blue, moonlight crept through the gap in the curtains. He'd gotten so used to the dark that the furniture was moderately visible without a candle.

If he were with Jason still, the man would've clapped him on the back and said something like, "Willie, my lad, that's a useful skill to be sure."

_ Jason. Why didn't you listen to me? You'd be alive somewhere instead of dead here." _

Running a hand over his face, Willie got up and went to his desk. Fishing around in the top drawer, he found his matches and lit the candle.

When he'd been given this room and all the furniture put in place, he wondered why Barnabas had given him a desk. He could read and write but never had a reason to pursue it much. Oh, sometimes at sea, he'd pick up a pulp story or dirty book to while away hours waiting for something to do. Though, it would take a long time to finish the book as he had trouble focusing on the words, visualizing the stories.

Jason read. He liked to read. There was one time, after a job and the money divided, that Willie had taken his half, intent on a long night on the town. He'd been walking down a strip of shops and bars along the waterfront. The sun low in the sky, the cry of gulls, and the smell of salt, in the air.

In one of the windows was a display of, according to the glass, "Finest Editions" bound in leather, gold along the edges. Willie might have been not much a reader, but even he could tell they were  _ fine _ .

On a whim, he entered the shop with bells jingling his arrival. It was a small space with squat shelves on either side filled to the brim with books. On a few spindly tables were displays of current releases or specially released classics. None of the books looked like the thin paperbacks Willie sometimes bought and he was damn certain none of them had barely dressed girls in them.

"Coming!" He heard from somewhere behind the counter across from the door. A portly man in expensive clothes with thin, gray, hair popped up from behind the counter. Round glasses perched up his nose, the man's eyes caught sight of Willie and smiled.

"Welcome young sir!" He rushed around to greet Willie properly. Willie didn't fail to notice the slight falter in the man's smile when he took in Willie's rougher clothes but decided not to rock the boat. He just needed to be in and out, he had plenty of other things to do tonight. Beating up an old for his judgemental attitude wasn't worth it, even if he felt the rage in his gut.

"Hi," Willie answered, clearing his throat, "I'm looking for a book." He had to resist punching the man's teeth out when he got another skeptical look.

"We have plenty of those, sir," the man's voice full of charm and salesmanship, "what is your pleasure? A..." he looked Willie over, "a classic perhaps? The Bard is always a favorite. We have a wonderful completed collection of his plays in white."

"The Bard?" Willie searched his memory. He knew he heard that name before but couldn't place it.

The shopkeep said, "William Shakespeare," as if were obvious, but at Willie's expression hurried on, "oh but perhaps you are a man who prefers mystery. Sherlock Holmes is quite popular. Good for engaging the mind.

Willie turned his back to the man and began to look around. Not that he knew what he was looking for but better that than the man's snide stares.

"I'm lookin' for a gift for someone." He plucked a book from the case. He flipped it over in his hand without reading the title. Leather, like a lot of the books in the place. Heavy. He tucked it back, shoving it hard so it clacked hard against the backing, grinning when he saw the man wince from the corner of his eye.

"Well, we have a wide selection," the man gestured around the space when Willie turned back to him, proud as a peacock, "what does this someone like?"

What  _ did _ Jason like? All kinds of things. He once told Willie he read anything from newspapers, pulp, smut, and fancy books. All were worth a look. But what was his preference?

Willie stumped, said slowly, "I'm not sure."

The man made a considering noise, clasping his hands together in front of him, "we have a horror section."

"Maybe," Willie turned around on his heel to go to the opposite side. Something caught his eye.

"Ah," the man nodded sagely, "action, adventure, to get the blood pumping. Couldn't go wrong with something in this section."

"Action," Willie said allowed, amused by the anchor decoration on the shelf, "yeah...that's it." He whipped around, "you got Treasure Island?"

At Willie's sudden excitement and focus the man parrotted, "Treasure Island?"

"Yeah, the book with the pirates, you got it or not?"

"Well...well, yes." The man reached past Willie to take a volume off the bookcase, "here." He held the book up for inspection, "a marvelous edition. Red leather. Supple and dark with gold..."

Willie cut him off, "Yeah, yeah, that's fine. I'll take it. Wrap it up," he dug into his pocket.

An hour later, he scanned the tavern crowd through cigar smoke until he heard, "Willie! Over here, lad!"

Following the voice over the sound of laughter and music was difficult but eventually, his eyes settled onto Jason at a corner table with two mugs of beer in front of him. Willie squeezed the handle of the shopping bag and worked his way through the throng of people until he reached where Jason sat.

"Bought you a beer," Jason waved his hand, "a token for a job well done." Beaming.

Willie returned the smile. Jason was always generous after particularly lucrative jobs. Liked to feel like a big shot. "Thanks." He took his seat and hid his hand under the table. For some reason, he hesitated. He'd bought the book on an impulse. Now, it seemed kind of silly. Jason and him never were sentimental, never exchanged gifts. Well, not often. There was a pocket knife Jason gave him, Willie bought Jason dinner. Sometimes Jason bought him drinks, sometimes Willie bought the drinks. Little things, often shared. Comfortable, easy-going.

The book though...this was...more.

"So," Jason drank, "what are you planning to do with your half?"

"Oh, already spent a little," Willie took a sip of his drink. Not the best brew but after enough of them he'd stop worrying about the taste. "how about you? Ya got any ideas?"

A woman happened to walk by, perfume a welcome scent over the smoke. Make-up and tight clothes, Jason follower her with his eyes. A weight filled Willie's chest at that. He didn't know why, but sometimes when Jason flirted or bought himself a girl for the night, Willie got a pain in his chest.

"Oh, Jason grinned over the rim of his mug at Willie, "plenty of ideas."

Willie did his best to grin back and ignore the weight. It didn't happen all of the time. Just some of the time. It was easy to ignore.

"Should I expect ya back at the room tonight? Can get a different room if ya need me to."

Jason waved him off, "not tonight. Tonight just for relaxing." As if to demonstrate his point, he sunk further into his seat with a groan of satisfaction.

Willie took a swig and weighed his feelings, the moment, and decided that why prolong it? 

"I got somethin' ya can relax with." Butterflies in his stomach, he hefted the bag onto the table and shoved his towards his friend.

"What's all this?" Jason didn't bother to hide his surprise as he reached out to accept the gift.

Willie shrugged and took another large gulp of beer, "nothin' much. I saw it and thought ya'd like it is all."

Boggled, Jason reached inside and pulled out the gift, wrapped in brown paper. Without preamble, he tore it open and the book, gleaming and new, fell into his lap. He lifted the volume to his eyes, a smile growing on his face.

Jason raised his eyebrow and Willie got nervous. "Treasure Island?" the humor in his voice put Willie at ease.

"Figured ya like it. You're in it."

It took Jason a moment before he caught Willie's meaning. He chuckled and gave Willie a barely-there kick under the table, "now Willie, I'm not a pirate. Just a man of opportunity."

"Get a peg leg and an eye patch and no one would know the difference," Willie laughed when Jason gave him another little kick.

Jason began flipping through the pages, eyes scanning the words. Willie was content to watch him.

After a long moment, Jason asked, without looking up, "you ever read Treasure Island, Willie?"

"Nah. Seen some pictures based on it," he half expected Jason to have taken the thing and then tease him relentlessly for the sentiment. Instead, his friend was practically drooling over the gift. Willie couldn't help the swell of pride and joy.

Jason shut the book, ran his fingers over the cover, a thoughtful look on his features. He grabbed his beer, took a sip, and came to a decision.

"Finish your beer Willie, we're leaving."

Willie looked at his near full beer, then back to Jason, "I only just got here!"

Jason waved him off and guzzled the remainder of his beer in thick pulls, plopping the glass down with an  _ ah _ .

"We've got plenty of alcohol in the room. I made sure of that. Better than this. Good stuff. Wine. Whiskey. I even have some rum. Rum...now there's an idea. So, you finish that and we'll go back to the room."

"What's with the change of plans?" Confused, Willie lifted his mug a fraction but didn't drink. "You're the one that wanted to come here."

"Just decided I want a change of atmosphere. As I said, tonight's for relaxing. What better place than own room away from all the noise and smoke?" Jason had stood, tugging on his coat and tucking the book bag into the bag. "Now, hurry up Willie."

Seeing Jason so intent on something that he wanted to pass up a night on the town in favor of quietly drinking in their room, just the two of them, filled Willie's stomach again with butterflies. He hoped Jason would like his gift, he didn't think that it would get the man this worked up. Anticipation and curiosity had him leave a quarter of the drink on the table as he stood. He didn't have a coat. One of the things he would be getting with the remaining money. Following Jason, they ventured back into the night.

Once on the street, Willie fell in step with Jason. Neither of them speaking as they trekked the twenty minutes back to their inn on the next street. A simple, out of the way place that, while still near the water, didn't attract as much attention.

Their room was small but clean and comfortable enough. The owners did their best to draw customers by having quality and minding their own business. The smell of laundry soap met their noses when they entered their room. New sheets had been placed upon the beds. Between their beds was a side table where both had placed various bits and pieces, including Jason's shaving kit and a half-eaten candy bar Willie intended to save for later. They even had a toilet and sink in an adjacent...well...closet would probably be the best way to describe it. At least they didn't have to use a community bathroom. All in all, for the last two weeks, it could have been worse.

Absently, Willie went to the tiny window. Decent enough view. Obscured by buildings, glints of ocean and sails could be seen in between. In the night, street lamps and lights behind curtains peppered the otherwise dull night but during the day, even though they weren't on the main strip, he could people watch.

Jason tossed his coat on the end of his bed and was ducking down to retrieve something from underneath it as he said, "I've got some cups in my trunk. Fetch two will you?"

"Sure," Willie moved away from the window to rummage into the trunk at the foot of Jason's bed. There were all sorts of things in Jason's trunk. Clothes, jewelry, a few watches. The cups were a mixed sort. A few dented tin numbers from the boat, two tankards from two different bars, and a pair of fancy squat glasses etches with designs, in a polished wooden box. Willie took the tankards because heaven help him if he took the valuable ones and broke them. He knew what the both of them were like when they were drunk.

Jason sat on the edge of his bed, book next to him, bottle in hand as Willie passed the bigger container to him. Willie took his place from across from the other, perched on the edge of his bed, and waited.

Jason struggled with the cork, throwing in a curse or two until Willie tossed him his pocket knife. The corkscrew attachment having some of the silver rubbed off from the most use. With a satisfying pop, the bottle was opened. Roughly half the bottle was poured into each tankard. Rum. High-quality rum.

Willie goggled, "are you sure ya want to be giving' me this much? Ain't it expensive?"

"We just got paid," Jason set his drink on the nightside table, "and besides, this was my idea to come back to the room. That means it's my treat. Besides, what else are you going to drink when reading a pirate story?"

****

He was warm, more than a little tipsy, and he kept listening to Jason's voice. A low voice that always sounded like it had a secret. Plus the accent. He never thought about it before, but he liked Jason's accent. 

Night bled into the early morning, his cup refilled at least twice, and he stopped paying attention to what Jason was reading and more to the methodical melody of his voice. 

Earlier, when they hadn't been so deep in their cups, they'd interjected anecdotes and jokes between Jason's reading. Laughing and just enjoying each other's company.

Jason seemed too far away, sitting across from him as he was. Without thinking, Willie stood up and Jason paused in his reading to look up.

"Willie?"

Willie flopped next to Jason, pressing their sides together.

"Just wanted to see the pictures better. This way ya don't have to remember to hold it out to me." He did his best to smile, knowing in the back of his mind it looked drunk and sloppy, Jason seemed placated and continued.

Close like this, Willie could smell Jason's cologne. A musky, unnatural scent that blended well with his soap.

"New cologne?" He asked, finishing his latest cup full and setting aside his tankard on the floor.

"Hm?" Jason blinked, "oh yes. I decided to try something new." He shifted and Willie could have sworn Jason pressed himself a fraction closer to him.

At first, Willie pretended to look at the pictures, but all too soon, he started taking in Jason's profile. He supposed Jason was a handsome man. He didn't really look at men but here, now, with Jason...

Scruff. A little bit of scruff touched his lips as he leaned forward and pressed them to Jason's cheek. The man fell silent, the book lowered to his lap.

Willie's mind caught up with his actions. Even in his drink fogged mind, he began to panic, preparing to stumble out his apologies, bracing for Jason to knock his lights out. How could he be so stupid? Ruining the only real friendship he had?

"Jason, I'm...I'm sorry...I didn't know what I was thinkin'."

"Willie," Jason's voice cut through, his hand coming to rest on Willie's shoulder, forcing the young man to look at him.

Maybe Willie was too drunk, but he couldn't quite make sense of Jason's expression. He didn't look angry or disgusted.

"I think," there was something heavier in his friend's voice, "We should turn in for the night. I'll read more later. When we're back on the boat." He gave a squeeze to Willie's shoulder and got up. 

Willie stared at him, bugged eyed. He tried to shake his head to clear it and flopped backward, dizzy.

"Willie, this is my be....never mind. Just...just close your eyes and you'll feel better in the morning."

At first, Willie wanted to protest. He was feeling fine. Head swimming, body relaxed and warm. Aside from his impulsive action and the brief scare it caused, he felt damn good. But now that he was laying down, it occurred to him just how late, or early, it was and his eyes slid closed on their own.

Jason said nothing as Willie heard his footsteps, the shifting of fabric, and other little noises of puttering around. The longer Jason stayed silent, the more Willie's fears started to come back. Until he heard the squeaks of what was supposed to be  _ his _ mattress and Jason giving a weary sigh.

Licking his lips, Willie murmured, "I really thought ya were gonna hit me."

There was a click, the world through his eyelids became dark.

"I'm not going to hit you, Willie. Now, go to sleep."

"...night Jason."

"...night Willie."

They never talked about that again. For that, Willie was grateful. Jason carried on as if nothing had happened. He didn't punch him, he didn't tell anybody, and he continued on being his friend despite it. So, Willie buried that part of himself and was all the more grateful for Jason's friendship. 

So now, sitting here in his dark bedroom, vampire downstairs, asking him if he was alright, talking about loneliness, he couldn't help to laugh. 

_ "I'm beyond lonely, Barnabas. You saw to that." _

They never did finish the book. 


End file.
